Diamond in the Weeds
by MadameMorganLeFay
Summary: "I mean, without you there is no show. You're the Playmaker here, Kelsi." Short picture frames into the friendship between Troy Bolton and Kelsi Nielsen in drabble format. Canon and AU.


**DIAMOND IN THE WEEDS**

* * *

 **1-PLAYMAKER**

 _Playmaker._

The title is foreign, yet curiously pleasant to Kelsi's ears, reverberating off the walls in the silent auditorium. _The one who makes everyone else look good._ She smiles, rearranging her manuscripts and putting them into her bag. For someone who has cowered in the shadows for years, watching all the beautiful girls bask in praise, times have changed indeed.

Perhaps all established truths about boys should be abandoned. In a sane world, tripping by the piano and flinging manuscripts everywhere like fairy dust should have earned her mocking laughter, particularly from jocks. Quiet and unassuming, she's forever bumping into people, getting lost, tripping over things. Instead, Troy Bolton- fricking Troy Bolton of all people- reacts like a dramatic fall is as normal as sunrise.

And his smile…

God, his _smile_.

Shaking her head, she zips her bag and walks offstage, remembering Ms. Darbus' golden rule: last one to leave turns out the lights. There's something soothing about seeing the auditorium bathed in darkness, as though awaiting piano chords, curtain rise and the first lines from the star of the show. So regardless of how Sharpay will react (most probably with fire and brimstone), shy little Kelsi Nielsen whom nobody notices will ensure that Troy gets his chance to shine in the final callbacks.

Because she's the Playmaker.

* * *

 **2- MOZART'S FINISHING TOUCHES**

Mozart filters out of the dusty old radio on Kelsi's windowsill, against a backdrop of interference that sounds like paper being scrunched. Time and time again, she tells herself to take better care of it, which has been her gateway to paradise ever since childhood, but somehow leaves it lying around her room, rain or shine. And time and time again, it never fails her.

Music has the beauty of allowing her to escape, of chasing away the shadows and transporting her into a past of bittersweet memories. Days where she sat on the kitchen floor as a kid, losing herself in the violins, pianos, the trumpets… However long the music might last, she could forget about life's pain, never having a father, the neighbourhood kids who mocked her glasses and never let her play, her ever so busy mother…

And now, huddled in bed with a lukewarm hot chocolate, she feels magic seep into her bones once again.

Glancing at her bedside table, covered in a pile of manuscripts, she smiles. One more day til Lava Springs. Her latest song just needs a quick run through, but best to wait until she reaches the resort before rehearsing. Somehow, she just senses it will sound more… authentic that way. Picking the topmost page, she traces her fingers over each note, each marker, each lyric, relishing the image of her mind projected onto paper, immortalized in ink.

It's a song about love, a song about music… A song about love forged from music, twisting and floating and binding two people together. And how fitting that whilst listening to Mozart, she finally decides on a title that suits the very person who brings her songs to life- so much so that she could pretend he sings them for her.

After a pause, she pulls a pencil from her hair and scribbles down _"You Are The Music In Me"._

* * *

 **3- THE PAIN OF A GOD**

Is there a God? And if so, wouldn't he rather just be a man?

As Troy heaves his sports bag over aching shoulders, the dull chanting of "What team? Wildcats!" throbs in his head, threatening to split him open. It reminds him of past, present and future- but not his own. No, these are the dreams of others who insist that he should be proud of destiny. Little do they know that destiny is like tiptoeing through an endless, windowless corridor with only your shallow breathing for company.

Step by weary step, he reaches the lockers, fingers fumbling with the latch before it opens to reveal a depressing number of textbooks and, perhaps ironically, a picture of Gabriella. Somehow a swell of pressure clogs his throat just looking at her. Is she silently disapproving of his lacklustre attitude or just smiling? These days, he can't tell.

After taking several wrong turns, he hears a piano, soft, lulling and immediately capturing his attention. With a sigh, he leans back against the opposite wall, recognizing Practice Room A, where he and Gabriella spent hours rehearsing for Twinkle Towne. It might have been a lifetime ago; now, he can't bear to sing another song again.

But as the piano chords stop and start, sometimes with tenderness and sometimes in frustration, Troy's breathing slows down. And when, after a pause, a girl with a pencil wedged in her hair wanders out, so engrossed in her manuscripts that she forgets to shut the door, Troy smiles.

* * *

 **4- THE MYSTERY OF KNOWLEDGE**

"Are you alright there, Hoops Man?"

Troy glances up from his manuscript, which he hasn't really been reading, with a small smile. The world can meander along on its own, but nothing passes Kelsi Nielsen- at least not where he is concerned.

"Yeah… just got a little distracted." Perfect timing, really. The class are about to rehearse a couple of numbers and Ms Darbus's voice booms in his ears every so often, reminding them of show time. Right now, he might as well sleep.

Except Kelsi- and _only_ Kelsi- knows that he zones out, and somehow brings him back to sanity. Just how she knows… Well, that's another matter. Her instincts might be mysterious, but they translate into beautiful songs that show such empathy, such understanding and maturity so as to stun him into silence time after time.

"A little distracted… on a one way ticket to Mars?"

"Sure, yeah," he says, laughing. Few people get to see her playful sarcasm or the way her eyes can light up in silent amusement when not smiling.

She reaches down to take his hand. For some reason, this has always comforted and uplifted him. It's like pressing a reset button in his brain, flooding him with energy. And he can't help noticing how perfectly her hand fits in his- not that he _should_ notice, of course. It's just one of those things he's never minded- and only Kelsi does it. Why? Well, that's just another mystery.

But as she leads him to the piano, he may have found the answer.


End file.
